


The Fireworks

by quiveringbunny



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 21:58:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4279407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiveringbunny/pseuds/quiveringbunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a bit of fun, imagining a scenario where Oliver and Felicity got together back in Season 2.  It takes place in a library.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be a naughty story, but try as I might, it ended up being romantic. With some encouragement in the comments section, I might do a steamy follow up as a separate piece.

In the course of her duties as Team Arrow’s resident hacker, Felicity Smoak did not imagine she would ever have break into a public library. Except that was precisely what she had…just…done. With couple of clean clicks the digital lock, which was more modern than the old fashioned colonial building it was attached to, signaled it had succumbed. Felicity upturned her deep pink lips along with the handle and looked for approval from her partner in crime.

All Oliver Queen offered her was a cursory nod, liked he’d just watched her open a refrigerator door. It was becoming harder to impress him now. He had witnessed her breeching Federal databases while eating a yogurt, barefoot. Felicity wondered if perhaps she needed to make it look a little harder in the future, as Oliver pushed the secluded side-door open and led them into a dark lobby.

It was after 7 pm. Denbyville was a traditional small town that slept between Starling City and Central City. Right now it was festooned in red, white and blue banners and slightly more busy than usual with tourists in town to enjoy an “Old Fashioned American” Fourth of July celebration. There had been a parade that morning, followed by a community picnic in the afternoon, and soon after dark everyone with a pulse would be directing their gaze upwards for the annual fireworks display.

xxXXxx

A series of strange events had brought them to this particular moment of illegal activity. If you asked Felicity she would take you all the way back to when Barry Allen got electrocuted and fell into a mysterious coma. Since then, Felicity had been making irregular pilgrimages to visit him in the hospital. Even though he was unconscious, she would quietly tell him about the exploits of the Arrow, whom she knew he still idolized, even though Oliver had been an ass to him. Her stories would also include any scientific or technical achievements because she knew how his smile would stretch around his face with delight hearing about those things if he was awake. Hopefully he heard her; the anecdotes were percolating in his brain, and would soon boil up enough to wake Barry from his unfortunate state.

Felicity usually took the train to Central City to visit her sleeping scientist, but because it was a holiday, there weren’t any tickets available. Adding to her bad luck, she had recently surrendered her Mini. The lease was up and after having it detailed several times to remove the blood stains in the back seat, she managed to return it for her full deposit. Due to the holiday, she could not choose a replacement vehicle until Monday. Stranded in Starling for the near future, she voiced her frustration in the Lair with a single utterance. “Frack.” 

That was when Oliver magnanimously offered to drive her to Central City. Externally, he proclaimed how he hadn’t driven any distance for some time and looked forward to getting behind the wheel. Internally, he considered it an opportunity to assess the status of his Girl Wednesday’s continued feelings for the young man. Not that he was jealous. He was just…a concerned friend. At the very least, Oliver thought he would enjoy sitting next to her during the journey. He was suddenly grateful that Digg was occupied with Lyla for the holiday weekend.

Felicity hadn’t disappointed when she emerged from her Brownstone wearing a crisp white blouse and a trim blue skirt. Her heels were red. Suddenly, Oliver felt a surge of patriotism that made him swallow hard. He moved quickly to meet her on the sidewalk and ushered her to the passenger-side door of the blue Maserati GranTurismo he had recently leased as a “fuck you” to Isabel Rochev and her constant snide remarks about the Queen’s diminished status.

“Happy 4th of July, Oliver.” She smiled warmly, her eyes sparkling through her lenses. Although her day-boss/night-partner had cautioned her away from pursuing a romantic relationship due to “the life” and all that malarkey, she found it difficult to set aside feelings that had cultivated over the past months so quickly. Oliver wasn’t much better at it, still stealing glances that John Diggle noticed regularly and commented on with eye-rolling.

It occurred to Felicity that Oliver looked pretty dazzling standing there in the sun, clad in his billionaire weekend wear – a black t-shirt and Armani khakis. She stifled a swoon and tamped down her sudden desire to lay her palm on his sculpted chest. Feelings were not invited along on this road trip.   

“Happy Independence Day to you too. You dressed appropriately.” He stifled a wince as her pony tail swished away and she backed into the seat before sliding her legs inside. 

After Felicity settled in, Oliver took a cleansing breath, then scurried around and slipped behind the wheel.

Felicity whistled, petting the leather interior. It was the first time Oliver had ever heard her whistle and it drew a half-smile from his lips.

“Like it?”

“It’s okay,” she grinned. Oliver reveled in the feelings that were flooding into him, recalling how much he enjoyed driving a car with a pretty girl by his side.  

“Maybe you should get one to replace your Mini?” he grinned, merging into traffic with no effort.

Felicity surveyed the car, swiveling to look at the backseat. Then she made a face.

“I don’t think so.”

“What’s wrong with it?” he asked with a slightly disappointed tone. He had expected to impress her, just a little, with the sweet ride.  

“It’s really small back there. And there’s a hump.”

“What?”

“The humpy thing in between the seats. It would be hard to get…comfortable.” Oliver’s eyebrow lifted on her last word, suddenly imagining what it might be like to christen the space with her like a hormone-crazed teenager.

“And we both know my backseat might have to accommodate a man. Not a small man, a you-sized man, you know, a big…ish person and possibly his quiver,” she rambled. “I mean, I don’t want you to get shot again, ever, but I’m just saying…be prepared. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“I see,” he sighed. “Maybe I should have chosen something a little more practical myself.”

“Oh no,” she reached out and tapped his arm. “It’s pretty and leathery and growly. It’s totally…you.” Felicity snapped her mouth shut after that, hoping to be swallowed into the bucket seat.

Oliver smirked at the comparison as he expertly shifted and opened the engine up on the highway towards Central City on this clear summer day.

Unfortunately, this turned out to be a fateful visit to Central City. Felicity crossed paths with Iris West at Barry’s bedside and realized this was the woman the young investigator had alluded to prior to his accident. Apparently, she was back in the picture and now Felicity realized any romantic future between her and the scientist was unsustainable.

Felicity was quiet as they returned to the road. Her eyes were red from a recent cry and Oliver quietly cursed “the Barry situation” for upsetting her, even though he didn’t know the circumstances. He sensed she was feeling vulnerable, but didn’t ask any questions. Oliver opted for the scenic route home. It was mid-afternoon and he thought a leisurely cruise down country roads would provide a nice change of pace.

His plan seemed to be working. As soon as they passed a field of cows, Felicity perked up a little and began “mooing” quietly. Oliver was relieved the bovines were shaking off her blues.

“I think there might be sheep up ahead,” he offered.

“I only do cows, Oliver. You’ll have to do the sheep noises,” she said quietly. Oliver let out a slow, deep breath. He didn’t do sheep noises either.   

Serendipitously, Felicity received an unexpected call from Digg. He was helping Lyla with a “project” off the ARGUS books and desperately needed Felicity to crack an encrypted database for them as soon as possible. Unfortunately, due to their current location, their distance from Starling, and the size of the database, she needed to find a real computer with an Internet connection where she could set up shop for a few hours in order to complete the task. A little phone research identified the Denbyville Public Library, closed for the holiday, as the perfect place to tuck in, far away from prying eyes. It was only a few miles away.

xxXXxx     

Early evening light streaming through the windows helped Felicity and Oliver move through the corridors and past the shelves that lined them. The library’s interior reflected the days when all of the furniture, everything from bookcases to reading tables to chairs, was made from sturdy wood rather than metal or plastic.

“We need to find the computers,” she said quietly.

“I think they are that way,” he pointed.

“How could you guess that? Are you a Library expert, Oliver?” she teased.

“I’ve spent some time in them, yes.” Oliver led the way.

She raised her eyebrow and her voice. “When was the last time you, Oliver Queen, were inside a Library?”

 “I don’t remember exactly. But, in high school our housekeeper used to drop me at the Library while she ran errands.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Felicity. And I liked it. I liked the Library. I liked the books. The periodical room. I liked the quiet. I liked the librarians…I…I liked the Library.”

“Wait a second. You liked the librarians.” Felicity considered the statement as she trailed behind him. “At least they left the air-conditioning on.”

“Yeah.” Oliver swallowed, thinking he would be warm standing next to Felicity in a commercial freezer. “Now, here we go.” Oliver whispered.  

He waved Felicity into the room he had found. Bookcases lined the walls. Against one, an attached ladder provided access to upper levels of tomes. Furniture in the space included a large table with stools and two leather lounge chairs in the corner. Most notably, there were the six computers arranged collectively on the far wall. Felicity’s step quickened and she passed him.  

Oliver watched his girl, who wasn’t his girl, sit down in front of a machine and proceed to make it do her bidding. There was nothing sexier than watching her deploy her considerable skills in this manner. The most beautiful IT genius he ever saw bit her lip when she started a new task. Her ponytail brushed her shoulder when she tipped her head to the left for a slightly skewed view of her monitor. Felicity was efficient and purposeful, rarely slowing the speed of her fingers along the keyboard and Oliver wanted nothing more than to grab her hands and worship each hard-working digit with his mouth. His fascination was interrupted when she stood up and stepped away from her seat.

“I’ve downloaded Digg’s file along with tools to break the encryption. It’s going now.”

“Will it take long?”

“It was going to. But then I came up with something. By connecting these terminals together through their network we can optimize processing capability. It should only take a couple of hours now. We’ll have to check on this equipment from time to time though. It’s old and I don’t know how reliable it will be under constant use for that long. These babies are typically used for job hunting and wiki searches.”

Oliver nodded understanding.

“And porn probably. It’s a small town and their filters are lame. And now I totally need to go and wash my hands,” she added. Felicity scurried out of the room in search of a Ladies’ Room. Oliver watched her walk away, curves swinging. When she was out of sight, he scrubbed his face with his hands and tried to regain his ability to breathe normally.

In the last few minutes, some notions had stealthily creeped from Oliver’s subconscious mind to his conscious one – fantasies. Here in this place, alone with the woman who meant more to him than anyone else ever had, he was losing the ability to check himself. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he had told her after Russia. He didn’t think he should be with someone he could really care about. It was an issue of safety, wasn’t it? Or did he simply not deserve someone like her? Someone remarkable. But here, now, in the dimming light, he was questioning his resolve. And visions of naughty librarians were dancing through his head like wanton sugarplums.

Felicity returned a few minutes later to find Oliver seated at a table next to the stacks. He had discovered an enormous atlas and was now turning the pages slowly, likely remembering all of the exotic places he had been but rarely discussed.

“Felicity, I meant to tell you. I’m sorry about Barry. Whatever happened there that upset you.”

She was surprised, no expecting him to raise the issue.

“It wasn’t anything dramatic. I just realized I was playing a part that belonged to someone else. I won’t be visiting anymore.”

Oliver felt a small weight lift from him, gratified that he had used the courage he normally set aside for facing killers to ask a personal question.  

“Wow, that’s really big,” Felicity murmured, unexpectedly leaning over his shoulder. “Look, there’s Moscow. We were just there. You know, I meant to say “thank you” for taking me. I mean, it was by no means a holiday, but I got to go…somewhere in a plane I didn’t have to jump out of.” She was right there. Her candied lips burbling delightful words. Her glasses perched on her delicate nose. Golden hair, sleek and constrained. Her blouse dipping open and affording him a view of pale skin and white lace. All inches away. Then, the scent of pineapple and coconuts wafted into his space. Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, Oliver pushed his seat back, seeking distance. He stood quickly.

“Now I need a pit stop.” With that, Oliver disappeared, leaving Felicity curious.

Alone, she texted Diggle and let him know the work was in process. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long, since Oliver was acting weird. She started pacing and trying to figure out what had driven Oliver from the room. A dark memory recalled by a point on the map, perhaps?

Felicity began to scan the stacks. Self-Help and Relationship section. Right there. “Ha, Universe,” she chortled. She opened a few books and thumbed through them. Her brain was now completely focused on Oliver -- how she had tried to distract herself with Barry, but they both knew they were hopelessly connected to other people. Hopeless. She hated that word. That wasn’t her. Even against the worst odds, she remained optimistic. Felicity Smoak looked for solutions. And that’s what she was going to do.

xxXXXxx

For at least an hour, they didn’t cross paths. They just explored the building, occasionally finding a diverting volume and stopping to read for a while.   

Oliver finally returned to the computer room, missing her, though he didn’t want to accept the concept in his mind. There, he found Felicity leaning back against the ladder, a book in hand, reading intently. Her beauty hit him hard just then and he tried to memorize the image of her – something he might call up at a later date when he was being tortured or held prisoner in a gulag. Oliver sat back down at the table and glanced up at the cover.

“Sonnets?”

“Shakespeare.” Felicity wore a mysterious smile, harder to see in the dimming light of early evening.

Oliver slouched back and grimaced. “I didn’t study Shakespeare in college. It’s like another language.”

“I remember you told me that. But it’s amazing really and not so hard to understand if it’s read correctly. I think you would like it. Anyway, these aren’t plays like Hamlet. These are poems.”

“Ah, poetry. Never been my thing. I did try to write a girl a poem once. Fifth grade.” Felicity tried to wrap her brain around this minor revelation.

“Really? Did she like it?”

“Oh, she dumped me for a sixth grader before I finished it.”

“A tragic loss. You might have become a great literary figure,” she chuckled. _God knows the rest of you is pretty great._ The look on Oliver’s face indicated that last statement had not remained in her inner monologue. He turned back to his atlas, trying to find a place where he could go to escape his feelings.

“This is a famous one,” she said quietly. “Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments.”

The words filled the space in the quiet as Felicity tried to recite them, deliberately. “Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove.” Felicity stopped and smiled. “I think that means that love is so powerful that when it’s felt, when you really love a person, it’s no longer a choice. Love can’t be switched off for convenience. Of course, it’s very beautiful the way he says it.”

Oliver took deep breaths and fingered the pages of the atlas, missing his bow. Now would be a great time to run away and get in some target practice. Felicity’s words were affecting him too much.

“O, no! It is an ever-fixed mark, that looks on tempests and is never shaken,” Felicity paused. “It is the star to every wandering bark.”

“Tempest,” the word fell from his mouth as his head dropped. Felicity froze for a moment, remembering with regret.

“Yeah. The code name for the Undertaking. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Oliver pivoted in his chair to look at her. “But you kind of lost me on wandering bark.”

“Right,” Felicity smiled broadly, delighted that he was paying attention. “Back in the day, ships were made of wood, wood is bark, bark meant a ship. So, that part means that love is constant and unshakeable, despite trials, storms.”

Oliver’s gaze caught hers, causing Felicity to go a little weak. She steadied herself by adjusting her footing. 

“And love is like a beacon that guides us when we’re lost, adrift.”

Oliver nodded towards her, understanding. Felicity turned away, gripping the ladder tightly with her free hand.

“Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle's compass come… I think that part’s about how love can’t be measured by anything but itself and that love shouldn’t be defined by how much time people have to express it. Love transcends that.”

At this point, Felicity became aware that Oliver had moved. He was standing behind her, looking over her shoulder now. Heat emanated from his chest, melting her back. He smelled like a forest and vanilla. Fracking frack. It took everything she had to control her voice. He leaned in close, noticing the rosy lips and cheeks decorating her face.

“Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom.”

Oliver lowered his head to rest against her shoulder, her white blouse soft against his rough chin. He sighed, with half a chuckle.

“Doom. Now that I know a little something about.” Oliver scanned the words on the page to find the place where she stopped. Breathless now, Felicity felt tears collecting and her heart thumping. It distracted her from the tightness tugging at her thighs. This only got worse when she felt the tips of Oliver’s fingers skimming lightly up her skirt, heading for her waist. Then –

“If this be error and upon me proved,” Oliver read aloud slowly, taking in the words for the first time. His voice was low and filled with warm air. “I never writ, nor no man ever loved.”

Oliver closed his eyes for a moment and sliding his hands around her ribcage, touching her with an intimacy they had never shared before.

“It’s me, isn’t it? I’m a person you could really care about.” Her soft voice trembled.

“No.” Oliver loosened his grip and turned Felicity to face him. Dread filled her immediately as she remembered their conversation in the office. How could she have her heart broken in such close quarters? Her blue eyes drilled into his and she prepared to be obliterated.

“You are not a person. You are _the_ person. You mean everything.”

That’s when she let herself see it – what Oliver Queen looked like when he loved. His eyes shimmered a little and a storm of microexpressions crossed his face. He looked happy and terrified as he moved his fingers up to gently caress her jaw. Then his eyes dropped down to her lips.

“Oh,” was all she whispered before he leaned down and pressed his mouth against hers. They were still for a very long time. It was Felicity who finally pulled away, but only to return more forcefully, at a slightly different angle. This action was a positive signal to Oliver. He couldn’t hold back any longer and unleashed his feelings with curious hands, deep moans and a grateful tongue. Oliver’s palm slipped down to her cup her bottom and Felicity’s state shifted from solid to liquid. She pressed up against the hard muscles straining against his t-shirt. Oliver found her neck and claimed a soft spot to rest and revel in the sensory overload of Felicity Smoak finally in his arms.

It was nearly dark outside when she finally lost the ability to hold the book and it dropped to the floor with a thud. They both pulled away for air and spontaneous laughter.

“What now?” she asked, causing Oliver to raise a lascivious eyebrow.

“That is not happening here,” she cautioned. Oliver looked disappointed, causing her to grin.

“No?”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t happening. I just said not here,” she continued. It was hard to keep a sober head when everything he had done and said was making her feel inebriated. “Oh,” his face brightened.

“Let’s go home then,” he pleaded with his most winning smile, interlacing his fingers with hers and tugging toward the door.

“Oliver. Hello? We aren’t finished our work yet.”

A little while later, the town fireworks began. Oliver realized that if they sat down on the floor near a picture window, they could see them. So, he pulled Felicity into his lap and the two made out like teenagers while enjoying the show. He would never forget her face, illuminated by colorful bursts.

When the decryption was finished, Felicity forwarded the files back to Digg and removed all trace of her presence on the library computers. At the same time, Oliver returned the books and reset the furniture. Felicity tweaked the network a little on her way out, happy to leave the system better than she found it. After all, she owed the Denbyville Public Library. 

The two held hands as they returned to the car, which was discreetly parked blocks away. And even though their lips were swollen from kissing, and Felicity’s face was pink from the scrape of his jaw, Oliver kissed her thoroughly one more time before she settled back into her leather seat.

Oliver turned his head and looked longingly behind them.

“Not the backseat of this car either, Mister.” Felicity wanted nothing more than to skim her fingers through his hair and touch his sublime body. But further attention demanded ample time and soft sheets.

“Okay,” he grinned, with an audible sigh. Then he started up the engine.

“I’m sorry you weren’t able to live out your naughty librarian fantasy tonight, Oliver,” Felicity spoke quietly, but with a grin.

He groaned and might have blushed in the darkness.

“It was all over your face five minutes after we got there.”

“You don’t miss anything, Felicity. That’s one of the things I love about you.”

“There are many things I love about you, Oliver Queen. Many.” She rubbed his hand, needing to keep touching him, now that she could. “l seem to recall you have a ginormous house with lots of rooms in it.”

Once Felicity bit her bottom lip, Oliver understood her message loud and clear, signaling it with a hearty laugh.

The Maserati GranTurismo is capable of going 187 mph. Oliver did not come close to that speed as he drove his girl back to Starling City, but he was in enough of a hurry to get pulled over for speeding. The next day he traded in the car for something with a more accommodating back seat. And the day after that, when everyone had gone, he showed Felicity Smoak the Queen Mansion’s private library.  

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I really appreciate it and I truly enjoy reading any comments you might leave. They are very encouraging. Once again, with some encouragement, I might write a follow up that's steamy.


End file.
